


Kill The Wizard

by ChemicalCris



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Bad Spanish, Cynical, Eldritch, Globetrotting adventure, Master/Servant, Mexican Character, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Original Character-centric, Original Fiction, Original Mythology, Post-Canon, References to Aztec Religion & Lore, Supernatural Elements, irreverent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-02-16 00:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21498865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChemicalCris/pseuds/ChemicalCris
Summary: An orphan on a quest for three objects too terrible for the mortal world, his mysterious inhuman patron, and the squib daughter of the talented potion masters and owner(s) of The Black Cauldron apothecary, find themselves on a path that will lead them to Hogwarts and beyond.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. "Thank You..."

**JUNE 4th** **19** **90,** **OUTSKIRTS OF** **CUIDAD VALLES,** **MEXICO**

“Gracias... gracias… gracias…” The boy gratefully repeats bleeding beneath a canopy of exotic flowers and tall trees.

The being receiving his thanks, standing impossibly massive yet completely within visibility from any distance, a formless darkness surrounding speckles of light and skeletal hands. Upon closer inspection the hands seemed to be serpents and the lights eyes, yet if one were to take another look perhaps they’d find the former lights more akin to the cosmos framed by an infinite space and the serpents now long veils of flowing beautiful light, or maybe they’d see something else entirely.

“What do you thank me for, boy? You are dying a meaningless death after living an equally meaningless and a far more wretched life.” the creature speaks without voice yet the boy hears it more clearly than even his own thoughts.

“porque estás aquí, porque eres el único que estaría aquí.” The boy says mustering a large genuine grin.

<because you are here, because you are the only one who would be here.>

“y por eso te agradezco!” He finishes with blood leaking from his smiling lips.

<and that's why I thank you!>

“What a foolish boy!” The entity’s thought responds amused. “You presume to know _me?!”_

“<I am very foolish, but even if you are not who I thought, would you please stay with me only a little longer.>” The boy whispers.

“That is quite the request of a perfect stranger” The thought is haughty not malicious. “though, I would not turn away from you, in these your final breaths. However child, would you not like to continue living?”

“I’m sorry, and your offer is kind and more than I deserve but I just can’t live this life any more.” The boy thinks losing all his strength to speak.

“I believe you’ve misunderstood my offer, you would not live as who or even what you once were but as _**my**_ paladin. You see, I am in need of unique assistance, however it does not need to be you specifically, boy. As such you are free to deny and I will still see you off. Although, I have taken a liking to you.” The thought is friendly and welcoming.

“Then yes, and with all my heart I will repay you for your kindness.” He replies from the very core of his being.

“Now I christen you, reborn in my name and for my purposes, you are Vidor Cur El Tempest!”


	2. Stepping Forward

**TEN YEARS LATER**

**CAMPSITE** **OUTSIDE JASPER, TEXAS**

“ _LEVITA!_ ” Vidor arcs his right palm in an uppercut motion, and a fairly sizable dead tree uproots and rises ~~two~~ f ~~our~~ ~~five~~ eight feet straight in to the air. With a huff he releases his spell dropping the tree with a heavy thud straight down.

The boy shakes his head unsatisfied and repeats the motion and the previously uprooted tree moves a little. He releases the spell slaps his hands together and tries again this time the tree floats a good two feet into the air.

With swift jerk of his hand Vidor sends the tree flying into a pile of rotting and dead plants.

“Excellent Vidor!” The voice of the entity now coming from a womanly figure.

Her skin like the translucent moonlight and she was not so much as dressed but more like integrated with shamanistic bones, black feathers, and wearing a stone head piece. Said headpiece connected to the skull of some unplaceable lupine beast covering her face only showing a jarringly white cheshire grin, and flowing black sheet like miasma standing in for her hair.

“Thank you master, but you are far too kind.” Vidor bows.

“Learn to take a complement child.” The figure admonishes him wagging an unnaturally long bone finger.

Vidor bows again and smiles. “Thank you, master. I will continue to strive to deserve your trust and praise.”

“Vidor!” the entity shouts raising its hands(?) into the air in a seemingly impossible motion. “The time nears!”

“You sense another well master?”

“Yessssss!” The entity hisses. “We will be leaving soon! Prepare yourself mortal, for your quest for the Deathly Hallows finally and truly begins!” The entity floats off into the trees

“Of course master! Your enthusiasm is quite contagious.” Vidor follows diligently.

As Vidor regroups with his master he finds her hovering upside down and circling a mound of dirt, and with each successive circle the mound rises exponentially.

“Blood of the Favored has fallen in plenty upon this wretched ground.” The woman says with severe undertone and mix of amusement and delight.

As she finishes another circling the ground erupts into a pale all encompassing light. As they are enveloped Vidor feels the familiar sensation of cleansing and restoration, while his master on the other hand simply absorbs the light soon after it touches her. The light completely dissipates moments later leaving only a cavernous hole in the ground where it erupted. The woman begins spinning in the air violently and vibrating, to which Vidor simply returns a heartfelt smile.


	3. A Slow Day

**JULY 7th** **2000** **HOGSMEADE, ENGLAND**

A young woman scurries about in a messy potions shop, that some may lovingly call cozy. She quickly grabs some ingredients which she throws into various pots and flasks before she is interrupted by the chime of bells as a customer walks in.

“Heya Miss Claire!” A rather large man with a bushy beard and a deep melodious voice greets her cheerfully. “I’ll take a usual, if ya’ have it.”

“Sure thing Mister Lordan, some DLD comin’ up!” Claire replies with a smile as she quickly ladles a few glass bottles with the heinous looking fluid.

“Thank ya’ don’t know what i’d do without you and yer pops!” The man replies producing some coin and crouching down to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling. “Well, i’d n’t get a wink a’ sleep at the very least, hah!”

“Thank you.” Claire says taking the appropriate amount of coin with a smile. The man nods and struggles exiting through the door.

‘Hey Dad! we’re gonna need more wormwood!” she shouts out toward the back of the shop.

“Daaaaadd!!!” She calls even louder.

Claire sighed and walked over to a desk close to a widow squished between a bookshelf and a brewing station. A yellowed note pad with an old quill and inkwell sat on the desk along with a few dry roots and leafy herbs. She absentmindedly scrawled out the addition while staring intently out the window at the lushes greenery just outside. She wondered how long until she’d be forced to leave Hogsmeade?

‘surely it was coming… the day someone, maybe the mayor or hell even some ministry goon, would coming knocking down the door and send me like… I dunno maybe an eviction notice or something?’ she thought.

‘Squib! Squib? Squib...’ She turned over the word in her head an unassuming yet all together unpleasant word, it reminded her of some sort of school yard taunt that an unimaginative bully would throw out. She couldn’t think of any etymology or pun or any origin at all for the name it just _was,_ just an unintimidating disgusting little slur. ‘Yeah the wizards really needed another dumb word to throw around at random people living their lives, like muggle wasn’t enough’

**POOF**

A flash of lightning followed by a puff of black billowy smoke appears just barely visible in the periphery of the window.

“What?” Claire involuntarily questions to herself out loud.

She pushed herself away from the desk and began cautiously half stepping towards the door.

Through the frosted glass window she could barely make out a figure still standing in the epicenter of the smoke. The smoke however, didn’t really fade or blow away on the wind, instead it seemed to coalesce into or onto the figure and near the ground where they stood. When she reached the door she paused for a moment deciding between her curiosity and her caution concerning the creature before ultimately cracking the door open just a hair. Slowly methodically she pulled the door open millimeter by millimeter, smushing her face against the side of it to peer out from the slowly growing rift between the frame and door.

And finally her diligence shown, there she saw a young man, brown skinned, thin, his hair short and gently curly. His lower half still enveloped by the shadow she noticed his chest bare and well toned, and more immediately eye catching a large vaguely asterisk shaped mass of discolored scar tissue over his heart. When Claire saw the stranger’s scar she reflexively clutched her own chest wondering what could cause such a thing as well as a wave of sympathy pain.

However, before she could ponder the idea any further the figure dropped to his knees and violently heaved into the tall grass. His head reeled back and jerked forward multiple as the sounds of his sick permeated the air. Claire simply pulled her head back into the shop and gently locked the door.

“Yes, and that is why we didn’t use translocation until now.” A familiar voice coalesces from the shadow smoke surrounding Vidor.

“Qu- BLUURRAGGGGGGHH- Quite- urp- Quite wise Master.” Vidor struggles to string the words together between the sudden brutal bouts of spew.

Finally feeling his stomach settle Vidor carefully pushed himself to his feet… before taking a few steps blacking out and collapsing head first into the dirt.

“Forgive me, my child I've over burdened you.” The voice comes from the smoke still sticking to the boy’s body.

As she started to return to her daily duties the mysterious event still haunted the young potion peddler andevery time the curiosity got too great she would peek out the window. There she’d find the stranger still in the same place and the smoke never dissipating almost embracing the figure face down in the dirt a few yards away from where he first appeared.Hours passed with no indication of any meaningful change. Eventually Claire bit the bullet and decided to check on the boy, but before she could do any real triage the boy finally hoisted himself back to his feet.

“Hello?” The boy spoke with smile, his words echoed and were seemingly out of sync with his mouth. immediatelyClaire’s heart rate spiked and her guard not so much raised but skyrocketed.

“Hi” Her vocal cords reactively creak out as her body tensed up almost locking herself in place.

“Excuse me could you tell me where we are and how to reach, um, ‘ _Hogwarts_ ’from here?”his tone almost indescribably quirked saying Hogwarts, almost like an auditory glitch.

“Uh, we’re in Hogsmead sir...” she says nervously but still purposefully holding onto the directions to the prestigious school. “What kind of spell is this?”

“Spell?” he mutters.

“The way you’re speaking, the way your words don’t match your lips. Are you disguising your voice?”

“Ah, the Godspeak, it is a blessing which allows us to communicate properly. Are you incapable of telling me where ‘ _Hogwarts_ ’ is?” that glitch again ever so subtly wrong implacably off.

She swallows hard retreating into the store scanning the interior for someone to help. As she backs up she instinctively lets go of the door and it closes a bit due to it’s weight.

“No? Oh well!” he begins to turn around. “Goodbye.” He starts walking.

Her eyes dart to the potion shopbefore the panic sets in, ‘THERE’S NO ONE HERE TO HELP! WHAT SHOULD I DO? WHAT IF HE’S ACTUALLYA STRAY DEATH EATER OR A PSYCHOPATH OR A MAGICAL BEAST, I MEAN WHAT’S WITH THAT CREEPY SMOKE? IT’D BE MY FAULT! AND IF SOMEONE FOUND OUT THEY MIGHT THINK I’M AN ACCOMPLICE THEN THEY’D COME FOR DAD TOO! THEN- ARRRGH!!!! I GOTTA DO SOMETHING!’ her thoughts spiraled out of control in an instant.

“Wait!” She shouted stifling a gulp ‘All or nothing, I gotta get him to spill and hopefully not kill me’.

“Oh, are you going to tell me whereto go after all?” His tone innocent as he spun to face her again.

“I-I I will, uh, if you tell me why you need to go to Hogwarts.” She clasped her hands behind her back and clenched her toes in her shoes.

He stared into the smoke for a moment before he responded which lasted an eternity in Claire’s mind. She could feel her heartbeat become less and less distinguishable as single pumps as she too stared into the darkness wishing this meeting never happened.

“Sure, that should be fine.” Vidor smiled andClaire exhaled a sigh of relief.“I’m looking for the ‘Deathly Hallows’, (Claire’s relief violently interrupted with a gasp of crushing dread.) and I believe one or more may be there.”

“Oh… the uh D-Deathly Hallows,” Claire stammers out. “and uh wh-why do you want them?”

“For my savior.” He says casually. “Now then, tell how we get to Hogwarts?”

‘OH GOD CLAIRE HE TOTALLY WORKS FOR VOLDEMORT, AND YOU ALREADY TOLD HIM YOU’D GIVE HIM DIRECTIONS! MAYBE I CAN RUNAWAY OR SAY I CHANGED MY MIND OR SOMETHING?! NO WAY!!! I CAN’T BACK OUT NOW, HE’LL TOTALLY KILL ME IF I EVEN TRY! BUT THEN, AGAIN HE’LL PROBABLY KILL ME AS SOON AS I TELL HIM WHERE TO GO! WAIT! WHAT IF-’

“Um (GULP) i’ll show you there myself!”A nervous smile sprawled across her face.

“Okay!” Vidor replies flatly enthusiastically and gestures her to lead the way.

“Ah, uh, yeah! Sure! Let me just get somethings before we go okay?”

“Go right ahead.”

Claire quickly, deftly retreats back through the door back to the relative calm inside the shop. She felt like a child pulling their blankets up over their head to protect themselves from the terrors of the night, but nevertheless the distance did help a little to calm her, just a little though.


	4. A New Journey

Claire paces around the shop occupying half her mind contemplating her options and her mistakes, and the other half gathering some potion supplies and a quill and paper.

‘Okay, alright, yes, first… first! I should leave a note for dad, something innocuous, something that won’t worry him, maybe ‘going to get some ingredients, be back soon.’ or ‘going out for a quick bite, I bottled the finished potions and left them here for you.’ alright next.’

She scrambles up the ancient creaky wooden stairs leading to her and her father’s bedroom on the second floor hall. First she passes by her father’s room, small and fit to bursting with apothecary tools and books, there the only clear space inside close to the door where the left side of a queen mattress poked out. Next she passed by a window where she briefly saw the stranger talking to the smoke. Pushing that out of her mind for now Claire reached her bedroom and frantically began searching her dresser’s drawers.

Relatively speaking Claire’s room was tidy, fairly large, and had a TV, plugged to a glass bottle containing what seemed to be lightning dancing inside. In the back of the bottom drawer of her dresser Claire found what she was looking for, a small double sided vial. One side filled with fiery autumn shade of liquid the other a misty cloudy and clear liquid. Her father had given it to her when she turned fourteen and began to wander further and further from home and told her.

“Promise me you’ll keep this with you whenever you plan on going out.” His words on that day were, as they always were, gentle and kind, but also there an unmistakable hint of remorse, “If you need to fight use the red, if you need to run use the white.”

She slid the Vial into her back pocket and made to return down stairs. Thinking ‘i just need to get to Hogwarts, find a professor, and I’ll be safe.’

* * *

“Master, do you think we made that girl nervous?” Vidor asks the shadows who were now freely spreading like the morning mist around him.

“ _Nervous,_ ” the voice responds incredulously, “obviously child! That girl’s heart flared with excitement and vigor! None could ever even dream of entering my proximity without feeling the glorious awe of my presence! Even constricted by the chains of a foreign domain, the grandeur of my aura cannot be accepted so easily by the minds of simple beings!”

“Please excuse my ignorance master, I absolutely should have realized that sooner.” Vidor replies disappointed in himself.

“Lift you’re head my paladin, I have lead armies of your kind and I have witnessed their behavior first hand, you’re experience is limited so naturally your perspective is as well. I cannot lay bare the mundane subtitles of Tlacah hearts, that is why I believe spending with this girl will aid your growth as my envoy.”

“That is brilliant master,-”

“Obviously!” The voice preens.

“I suppose that is why you had me agree to her request,-”

“Yes, I know.” The shadow replies proudly

“and why you’re power sent us here instead of straight to one of the artifact.”

“…ah… Of course.” A response that most would probably find at the very least suspect but to Vidor those words were as good as gospel.

With a jiggle of a handle and the creak of some squeaky hinges the old handcrafted stained oak door slowly steadily recedes into the apothecary. The shadows move with lightning speed and coat Vidor’s body melding into a hot tar like consistency.

As Claire pulls open the door to the shop she is greeted by The stranger she just met absolutely covered in dripping inky black hard shadows starting at his clavicle and running down all the way to the top of his feet. A second of pure and utter uncomprehension takes over her mind and body as she blankly stares at the scene before her. Vidor waves obliviously and Claire absent mindedly waves back to the boy maybe five feet in front of here.

“Are you ready to go?” Vidor asks nonchalantly.

Gathering her sense after what felt to her, like, at least, five minutes of stark dead silence Claire replied with a halfheartedly mustered, "Yup." and tenuously took the lead to Hogwarts. 


	5. Encounter

Claire walks at a brisk pace just a little ahead of her tail, occasionally glancing nervously in his direction when she thinks he isn’t looking or won’t notice. As Vidor takes in the verdant mountains and distant ancient stone buildings of Hogsmeade proper on a stereo-typically cloudy British day he also takes in his guide’s unsubtle wandering glances and the rare full on stare. He shifts his focus to the girl, her uneven gait, and her hands in near constant motion from her pockets to her hair to her elbows to her neck.

“Excuse me, master.” Vidor whispers to his very strange unfitting excuse for cloths.

“What?” Claire exclaims nervously only half-hearing the beginning of the boy’s plea.

“oh, um...” Vidor senses the distinct sensation of his patron’s laugh and a soft echo ‘you can handle this, you wouldn’t be my paladin if you couldn’t.’, “i-uh I would like to know your name. If you do not mind telling it to me.”

“Oh! Yes! Absolutely” Claire jitters with every exclamation like a wind-up toy snapping into it’s limited spectrum of motion turning to face her. “My name, is, Claire Baxter.”

“Thank you, Claire Baxter, for kindly showing me the way to Hogwarts.” Vidor says equal parts genuine appreciation and strained uncertainty.

“Yup! Sure! No problem er- um hm...” she says with a exaggerated grin. 

‘Decent, child, but you’ve failed to introduce yourself. Now rectify that with the grandeur befitting my chosen!’

“My name is Vidor Cur El Tempest!” His tone one-eighties: confidant, strong, and intimidating. “Proxy of Ixcotlihue the deafening!”

Claire would’ve sworn as Vidor spoke the skies darkened slightly, thunder clapped in the distance, and lightning danced in the clouds above for just an instant.

“oh okay...” Claire said softly. “nice to meet you, uh, formally meet you that is… heh heh.”

“it is my pleasure to meet you as well, miss Claire.” Vidor reciprocates.

‘Welp, all or nothing it doesn’t seem like he’s working for the Death Eaters, so I might as well risk it all!’ Claire thinks summoning all her resolve to ask. “Hey, does the word Voldemort mean anything to you?”

Vidor looks confused for a second before asking completely sincerely, “Is that some kind of animal?”

“Uh, oh, no… so you really don’t know, huh… anyways don’t worry about it. And uh don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“Okay.” He replies flatly subservient. “Is Voldemort something naughty?”

“No, I jus- look don’t” Claire catches herself speaking more casually accidentally taken in by his naive demeanor. “Please just don’t talk to the other wizards around here about Voldemort.”

“O-okay, I am sorry if I upset you.” Vidor apologizes earnestly, concerned with her sudden shift in speech and mood.

Claire opens her mouth about to say something but thinks better of it as she realizes the main gate to Hogwartz is just within view. The entrance gate was a fairly drab wrought iron affair attached to the thirteen or fourteen foot stone walls bordering the campus grounds. On either side of the black iron gate atop the stone pillars the metal fence connected to sat slightly decrepit statues depicting winged boars sitting facing outward.

“Well, uh, ya’ know… here it is...” Claire says nervously presenting the gates. “So, uh, yeah… i’m sure you’ve got it from here, so i’ll just leave you to it and get back to the ol’ shop.”

Claire spares a curt wave then turns away and begins to walk away.

“Oh!-" Vidor shouts suddenly.

Claire freezes in place hand in her pocket gripping the insurance and expecting the worst.

"Miss Claire, thank you very much!” Vidor says bowing to his guide. “i promise I will repay this debt in kind!”

Claire stiffly turns to face the boy heart racing. She forces a smile then flashes a thumbs up and returns her focus to the path. ‘Should I run? I probably shouldn’t run… but I really do NOT want be here.’ she thinks forcing her legs to move at a slower pace than she’d of liked. With a couple of clangs, a grunt, and the tale tell creak of old hinges Claire stops her walk once a gain and cranes her head back to see the boy half way up the fence his hands gripping the cross bar below the spiked poles at the top and his feet flailing struggling to find purchase for a second.

Claire feels her heart stops as she tries to scream. “STOP!” but unfortunately, it’s too late. The boar statues crackle as their stone skin begins to animate and then the squeal high pitched whines just a few decibels below the bellow of a mandragora’s shriek. Instinctively Claire grabs her ears, cringes closing her eyes, and curls into a squat shoving her head between her knees for extra ear protection. With a deep breath and an anticipated wince she removes her right hand from her ear and shoves it into her back pocket frantically seeking the vial of “self defense” potion. Pulling the potion out of her pocket she forces an eye open and sees; one of the boars circling at least eighty feet above still squealing while the other dove all around at Vidor hanging on the inside of the gate by his leg.

Blood… she hadn’t immediately noticed it but there was blood on the fence, she quickly identified the source. Horrified and transfixed she stared gritting her teeth at the sight of a spiked finial sticking out from Vidor’s left calf wiggling slightly with every little motion. The boy grimaced fiercely and held his ears with his right hand pushing hard on his left ear which in turn mushed his right ear into his bicep. With his free hand he slammed his fist against the gate which began bending and warping unnaturally moving as if to envelope him. As the gargoyle takes another dive bomb Vidor slams his non-injured foot in the most solid bar in the fence he could find and launches off haphazardly grabbing the wing of the boar as it scraps up against the increasingly animated gate. The maneuver must have been just as unexpected for Vidor as his quarry because as soon the boar gained even the slightest altitude his face shifted from the pained expression that he wore on seconds ago to something more akin to that of a mouse in the clutches of a cat.

With a muted scream and a sickening thud Vidor fell from the sky and landed a few feet in front of Claire who had just started to open vial using her teeth. His face softened as he flashed a smile and a wave to his guide, Claire on the other hand felt tears welling in her eyes and her flight response going into maximum overdrive. She breaks her focus from the freshly mangled lad in front of her just in the nick of time to see the same gargoyle Vidor had accidentally hitched a ride on screaming toward them. Meekly she points to the encroaching threat which catches her companion’s attention sending him into motion. With a jerk Claire uncorks the potion spilling a bit of the white liquid on some nearby grass meanwhile Vidor limps away surprisingly quickly in an attempt to lead the stone fiend away from his guide. However, both Claire and Vidor’s eyes widen as the attacker stays starkly on course.

‘Move!!! Run!!! Drink the goddamn potion!!!’ Claire screams internally frozen in place.

She flinches closing her eyes expecting a massive impact however, when she opens her eyes she sees Vidor facing her his ears bleeding boar tusks goring his shoulder, but shockingly the most striking thing about the situation was his "clothing" forming tendrils digging into the ground acting as support structures vaguely reminiscent of stalactites and stalagmites meeting. Claire’s eyes frenetically darted around taking in everything she could, when she noticed the mist-ified grass crawling to and meshing into the solidified shadows. With a flash of inspiration she dumps about half of the white potion on to the boar.

The potion worked quick, not instantly but fast enough to catch the stone fiend’s open mawed lunge at Claire transmuting it’s body snout down into the same gaseous substance as the grass before it and just like said grass the mist begins merging with Vidor’s ‘clothes’ although this time not without some obvious resistance. With the wailing of the gargoyles’ siren reduced considerably Claire removes her hand from her ear and begins to turn her thoughts to the strange powers continually exhibited by her tenuous ally. Even still as she pondered what possible form of magic she had just witnessed she notices the boy’s wounds closing leaving behind nothing but scars and mere memories of the pain.

Fate however would have more immediate plans that would not and could not allow her attention to be focused anywhere else but the spectacle beginning to play out before her. The circling boar began it’s decent while Vidor charged the gate. Vidor met the gate first the pig twenty-ish feet in the air but still falling fast. With a boost from the shadows and a quick springboard off of the gate Vidor launches ten, thirteen, fifteen feet in the air crossing parallel with the gargoyle still diving and redirecting focus to a new target. With and awkward flail Vidor forces himself into a half flip positioning his head to the ground and pulls his open palm down (or up given his perspective) in wide exaggerated arc and screams _**“**_ _ **LEVITA!!!”**_ his voice cracking.

The spell catches the gargoyle while it’s still just barely above the gate forcing it down into it with all the force of falling freight train. The metal gate still in motion from the force of Vidor’s jump absorbed the impact squishing and gelling but also weaving and tangling around the boar’s rigid body. Claire look on in disbelief before Vidor’s rapid decline and the gargoyle struggling and quickly beginning to free itself with the gate’s cooperation snapped her back to her senses. The beast’s wailing siren deepened and became angrier, more threatening, no longer an ear piercing shriek but a bone rattling roar. Time slowed for her and her body began to move on instinct. She resealed the white potion then flipped the vial to the other side and opened the red potion and power walked close to the gate.

“MOVE!” She commanded as she downed a little over half of the liquid.

Vidor silently obliged clumsily rolling off the path where he had fallen and into the thicket. As soon as the liquid met her tongue her mouth blazed and her eyes watered, but still she forced it down into her stomach. Her face flashes regret and she retches violently, jerking forward she sends a sustained jet of fire onto the statue and gate. After twelve seconds of continuous fire Claire collapses to her knees exhausted looking at the boar and gate now fused into a single glowing molten pile of subtly writhing slag.

“Just what is going on here!” the woman spoke with an authority and severity matching her appearance and her piercing green eyes. 


	6. Panic!

“Uhh uhhh uh.” Claire stammered out trying to think of literally any excuse, “I-i was, kidnapped!”

She points at Vidor who glaces to his left then right the behind him the points at himself. As Vidor points at himself, the patches of the shadows covering him begin to turn into familiar greyish stone chunks of varying sizes poking out in random places. The woman’s steely gaze shifts from Claire, to the flaming heap of metal and stone that was formerly one of the gate guardians and said gate, then to Vidor encrusted in shadowstone. She draws a small wood stick from inside her coat and aims it at him.

“I would suggest that you explain your self quickly young man, I am not in the habit of suffering fools.” the woman’s eyes narrowed and expression darkened reminding him of a particularly harrowing encounter with a very ambitions and VERY hungry golden eagle when he was ten.

Under this woman’s stare he found himself nearly paralyzed but he still forced himself to move into a kneeling position causing chunks of the stone to fall off.

“I am only here for the deathly hallows. I didn’t and don’t mean to cause any harm or trouble and I am terribly sorry to both of you-” Vidor gestures toward Claire and the woman. “-that I have failed in that respect.”

“Babel-tongue.” she whispered to herself and tightened her grip on the stick. “Be that as it may young man, the Deathly Hallows are not trifling toys a mere child can take on a whim.”

“Senorita, I abide no ‘ _mere whim_ ’ I follow the will and divine dictate of Ixcotlihue!” His tone grave and brimming with zealous passion and a hint of scornful indignation as he rises to his feet.

The lady shoots a sidelong glance to Claire taking in the girl’s horrified expression then with all her attention firmly directed at the boy in front of her she flicks the stick and shouts. “ _ **Expelliarmus!!!**_ ” An opaque blast of white energy streaks through the air and strikes Vidor square in the chest sending him tumbling an easy three feet. The spell hits hard, and jumbles up his stomach reminding him all to much of his one-way trip to England. A palpable hit but not altogether incapacitating. Claire, frozen with guilt and uncertainty, looks on with quiet concern.

Vidor turns his eyes to the ground, takes a big breath, clasps his hands together then slams them into the dirt. From the impact billowing shadows explode outward enveloping all in an inky black abyss. For a split second both the witch and the clerk experience absolute darkness and feel a chill, while Vidor feels the faintest hint of a shock and something tugging at him from his right. In the darkness Vidor takes a second to close his eyes and focus his perception reaching out feeling the faint whispers of ancient otherworldly magic reacting to the presence of something similar. Honing his sense onto the source of the magic he is overwhelmed with two presences in his mind. One deeply familiar, his master, brimming with pride and anticipation, the other an utterly alien hollow longing.

“Interesting, were you able to feel it’s pull or was it merely a guess?” Ixcotlihue speaks directly into his mind. “Either way, you continue to impress me child. Whether by instinct or luck you’ve managed to pin point our object all on your own!”

Vidor nods hesitant to indulge in the praise but all too aware of the time sensitivity of the situation. He pushes against the stone encasing him breaking the stone into varying sized bits of rock chunks. Grabbing two of fairly large heavy stone pieces, one in each hand, he yells “ _ **LEVITA!**_ ” and swings his arms in the same arcing motion. This time however the object, or rather objects, being effected by the spell are in either of his hands and begin rocketing him out of the smoke at a sixty degree angle toward a pure white marble structure at extreme speeds. Vidor bursts from the pocket of swirling misty shadow leaving a clinging streak of smoke stretching from the cloud and out towards a gleaming azure blue lake.


	7. Into the Dark

The water rippled, splashed, and devoured the weight of the fractured gargoyle pieces in his hands and still clinging to his shadow silk furthering his decent and exponentiating his impact. Vidor allows his sinking body relax and drops the stones in his hands. Then he closes his eyes, brings his hands together and exhales sending air bubbles into the darkened depths of the lake. A muffled boom and a burst of shadow and the remaining gargoyle stone expand from Vidor reveling the shadows that were cling to him earlier transformed to accommodate his new environment. Flipper like appendages appear on his hands, feet and two on his back resembling a rather large manta ray, leaving his chest, midriff, and most of his legs and arms bare of shadows. He kicks and claws against the now silty murky lake water black lines running along his skin connecting each mass of shadows to each other flex with every motion.

Back by the gates the shadow cloud dissipated leaving the older woman and Claire in it’s wake. The two exchange glaces of confusion and concern. The witch scoops up a shard of gargoyle between her thumb and index rolling it around as she thinks.

“The Hallows, hmm? Unfortunate for you boy.” she whispers to herself smirks wryly then faces Claire. “You, miss Baxter, wait here, Mr. Hagrid will meet you here soon. Give him this and he will protect you and escort you inside to my office, from there you can contact your father or have one of the professors do it for you.”

“oh, okay… I-i mean yes ma’am, miss Minerva!”

“For now I have an intruder to capture.” she says flicking her wand summoning a broom to her hand.

Before mounting the broom she glances at the path leading to Hogwarts castle and sees Ruberus Hagrid bounding down making his way to the two of them. He nods and waves her off seeing her in position to take flight. She levitates the broomstick and speeds off in the air heading in the direction of the White Tomb. Claire regarded the tall rotund man with a familiar cool respectful gaze, they had met before when her father had brought her along on a business trip to the school.

“Ello’ Claire, are ye’ okay?”

“uh oh yeah, just a little shaken up, Hagrid… Just weird, weird day ya’ know?”

“Yes, well I can understand that!” he chuckles eyeing up the aftermath of the battle and begins to usher her onto the path towards the school proper.

The murky depths bend and twist the light shining down into Black Lake of Hogwarts dyeing the frantic struggle taking place below a sickly green color. Vidor manifests a hand flipper into a shadow knife and slashes at a tentacle wrapped around his leg only to be interrupted by a scaled humanoid slamming into him. The creature effortlessly glides around and grabs him from behind placing him in a head lock.

“No no no, little one” The creature’s voice almost unsettling softly and alluring. “you are not supposed to be here.”

Vidor's muscles relaxed and his mind clouded as the creature’s enchanting voice carried effortlessly in the water.

“Yes, good, little one. Now, let’s take you to your proper place.” the voice drawled in a soft sultry tone playfully dragging out the syllables switching it’s grip to a gentle embrace, almost a hug from behind.

“YOU ARE NOT SO WEEK!!!” Ixcotlihue screams into her wards mind he focuses on the words slowly forcing out the creature’s influence while it drags him to the surface.

Breaching the water Vidor sees his goal, a white stone vault framed by thin tall trees on a little little island. He raises his hands out facing his palms towards the sky, which had begun to darken. Then quickly before the creature could truly interfere a bolt of lighting struck the boy his form briefly brightened then consumed by shadow and the finally gone.

Another lighting strike and a puff of black clouds in it’s wake and the kid reappears on the island, blood beginning to trickle from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. His muscles convulsing and seizing as he trys to bring himself to his feet while a familiar bile threatens to make a unwelcomed return. Guttural growls and sundering screams resonate shallowly from the his lungs as he dig deep into his willpower and forces himself to his feet. Shambling, screaming, bleeding, he takes step after labored step towards the white stone monument slowly closing the distance. His legs lose their strength mere inches from the tomb howling he drags himself closer channeling his fervent desire into power. Clawing forward he brings himself up to the tomb.

Touching the tomb’s shadow protrudes from all five of the fingers on his left hand and congeal into on singular spike tracing the white stone snaking it’s way around the structure in quick bursts of motions. Vidor keeps his hand on the wall and awkwardly brings his heaving bloodied mass to lean against the cool stone wall. His vision blurred and each breath sending tremors of unimaginable pain racing through his body. A tug comes from his left hand a series of sharp jerks calling for movement to witch he humbly obliged. Pulling himself back up feet using as leverage he totters forth guided by the shadows on his hand.

Snaking their way along the stone, the shadows lead him to a thin slit in the tomb where they had begun to congregate. Coming to a stop in front he hears a skittering from inside the chamber and after a moment it stops, interrupted by two new sounds. First, stone shifting and scrapping against itself, second a shout, “ _ **DESCENDO!**_ ”

Then with a sudden sickening thud Vidor hits the ground his unsteady knees providing little resistance an exhausted wheeze barely audible escapes his lunges. He makes attempt after ultimately feeble to rise only for his battered body to give out under the sheer force of the spell every time. The shadows on his hand however, continued to rustle and tug unimpeded.

“Stop struggling child, you have been caught and even if you were to escape here and now pursuers are at the ready to hunt you down.” the older woman from earlier spoke with authority tinged with annoyance from a feet away and above sat upon a gnarled black wooden broom.

Undeterred he continued to struggle against the invisible force keeping him down edging slightly closer to the mouth of the tomb. The shadows expanding in length and contracting in width growing thin on his fingers forming wispy strands of inky dark. The woman was off her broom now and approaching cautiously wand drawn, but before she could do a thing a flash of indescribable color and light erupted from the tomb’s entrance. Bathed in it Vidor felt his wounds, which were negligible and usually fast to heal but for some time now were still open and bleeding, quickly close up. And then overwhelmed mind, body, and soul, as if swallowed by an abyss; nothing.


	8. An Honest Conversation

Claire waited in the headmaster’s office, a place she’d been to on occasion when here father brought her along on business to the school dropping off supplies a potions. place that always held a certain creeping dread for her with in it’s archaic walls, it had met with a few changes in the wake of Albus Dumbledore’s passing but that did not bring her any comfort. She sat quietly screaming into her own mind hands on her knees and her but firmly planted on an ancient, uncomfortable, wooden chair. She was staring at her hands trying to think of what she should say, whether or not she should just tell Ms. Mcgonagall the truth and if so how much of the truth should she tell her, when the door opened suddenly, not exactly forcefully, but it was still enough to send her heart racing and her muscles tensing. Claire cautiously raised her eyes and saw a hurried and disheveled looking Mcgonagall power walking towards the headmaster’s desk and retrieving something from the one of the drawers. Claire kept as still as possible abiding a tiny part of her irrational thought process the posited ‘maybe if you don’t draw any attention to yourself she’ll just walk by you again, and you can just sneak out and go home… forever!’, this was not the case. Leaving the office a creaky “Miss Baxter follow me.” shattered a very silly fantasy that day.

Claire silently abided following a noticeable distance behind the witch down the twisting corridors of Hogwarts left, right, under(?), and through she found herself in the doorway to the infirmary. Inside she could see only one bed in the room and upon it Vidor his body covered by a white sheet, to maintain an air of privacy the boy had obviously no concern over, he had been chained to the bed frame ankles and arms. Minerva Mcgonagall wasted no time in approaching his bedside and grasping his throat, Claire drew cautiously closer while keeping her space from both the witch and the stranger until she could see a hand… a hand leathery a tapestry of brown, black, with splashes of purple skin, jagged shafts of yellow bone. Old and desiccated, it’s fingers flailed wildly around the boy’s throat before coming to a rest gripping the boy’s windpipe. The hand was sickening enough on it’s own but the vigor and tenacity in it’s movement pushed the experience into a whole new level of awful for Claire.

She stood, silently processing the situation, just taking in things like the expression on the headmaster’s face – cold, callous, not a single hint of the hurried desperation she had when she entered the office… just blank- or the way the boy’s body subtle twitched in response to the hand’s touch, or the way his breathing became shallowed by the hand’s grip, or how the room seemed wrong missing the other beds, or how her skin crawled with the occasional crack or snap from the desiccated hand as it tightened and flexed.

“Miss Baxter, i’m sure you’re scared and anxious, but as we wait for your father’s arrival I wish to ask you a few questions concerning your encounter with this boy.” she spoke calmly commanding a cool even tempered approach to the conversation.

“Uh, yep, er, sure thing ma’am.” Claire said.

“First,” She took out her wand and began to gesture, “ _ **REDITUS**_ , _**VIVITAURA**_ , _**PURUS**_.” as she finished her recitation wind shot from the tip of her wand and swirled around Claire lightly rustling her hair and slightly oversized t-shirt.

Claire stood in stunned awe and uncertain terror as the wind which encircled her gradually constricted around her tighter and tighter penetrating her body. At first fear overwhelmed her but as the wind flowed through her she felt a calm and gentle warmth spread through her. The magical wind blew through her heart, head, stomach, and finally straight down her spin before dissipating.

“Wh-what was that?” Claire asked.

“Just making sure no inconvenient spells were cast upon you.” Mcgonagall answered matter-of-factly.

Claire nodded, and while she was more than a bit put off by the headmaster’s nonchalance, she did feel calmer and a decent mite more invigorated.

“Now then, tell me honestly, did this boy threaten you or otherwise give away any ill intent concerning your well being?” Mcgonagall’s tone cold and steadfast held faint traces of annoyance.

Clair opened her mouth not expecting words to immediately fall out, but they did. “no, he did not threaten me, but I did find his presence unnerving and alarming.”

Clair shuddered and glared at the witch, “WHAT?”

“Purely business, I'd prefer it if your testimony were reliable, now then. Why did you lead him here?”

“Because he asked me to and I was worried that he may cause harm to my father or me if I refused.” Clair still held her glare but this time leaned into answering the question rather than having it drug out of her. “I also thought it prudent to see him brought to someone better equipped to handle the situation, for the safety of everyone.”

“Oh, so you thought the safest place to bring him was exactly where he wanted to be?”

“I thought the staff here would have been more than capable of handling a kid, yes. That was my mistake” Clair fought the urge to smile trying her best to keep up the act that she had been compelled to speak still.

“And would you call helping that boy destroy our gate golems a mere ‘mistake’?” Minerva prodded.

“I would call it self defense headmaster, your golems attacked me as well while Vidor saved me from what would have surely been a fatal blow.” She said with a twinge of guilt in the back of her mind having relived her betrayal.

“And I suppose it was also ‘self defense’ when you lied about your the boy kidnapping you.” It was phrased like a question but Claire knew it was an indictment, and as such felt no compulsion to respond.

“Is there anything else you wanted to ask me?” Claire asked clenching her fist and biting her cheek.

“No, that’ll be all for now.” The headmaster said just as cooly as before but without the annoyance from before.

Claire sighed and turned to the door.

“But, I do want you to wait here until your father arrives.”


End file.
